It's back to traveling, this after a couple of weeks of a more or less "domestic" style of life, living with G. and her son, I. in Ankara.
I think I finally left a place (Bursa) with a little more style than I have in the past. In this case I called upon a fellow I met at the Art Camp whose family had a shop in the Silk Market of Bursa. We met there and I bought (from a neighboring shop) a tie for Hamdi, the server at the tea house I frequented almost daily. Hamdi always welcomed me fulsomely. During the European Cup football championships he would reserve a seat for me in the front row before the television screen.
After the tie purchase Samet also had time to drive me to my neighborhood where in a pastry shop I purchased a couple of cakes, one for the "crew" at the tea house, and one for the guys I called "Los Gelcis." (This term explained in previous blog). Also, the next morning I gave all my household collection to Ibrahim #3, one of Los Gelcis. This merely consisted of a mop and bucket, some soaps, a broom, and a small rug.
The first week in Ankara was Bayram, a Muslim holiday that has elements of several holidays in the States: a Christmas-like religious holiday where families visit and fete one another, and friends; gifts are exchanged, children appear at the door seeking candies. G. twice hosted three of her sisters and their families (one in from Kayseri), and on one evening we went to one of the Ankara sister's for a large meal.
The second week I spent mostly glued to the television set, switching back and forth between CNN and BBC, saturating my mind with repetitious reporting of the global market meltdown and reportage of the Presidential election in the United States, including the Vice Presidential debate and the second Presidential debate. For these live, I had to tune in at 4am Ankara time. Later I was also able to see on "Larry King" some of the "Saturday Night Live" takes on Sarah Palin. Also, I caught King's interview with Michelle Obama. And listening to her I was physically and emotionally effected, so much did she reflect what humanistic values I want believe of myself.
In between, I continued to read of the emperor Constantine (Odhal), and following with Steven Runciman's The Fall of Constantinople 1453.
Now I am in Istanbul, preparing to meet my sister who, at age 73, and surviving a mastectomy and attendant chemotherapy, is about to conclude her own around the world "backpacking" trip. She has been visiting with her children in the States, friends and people she has met through the travelers' internet social organization of which we are both members. She is due in to Istanbul this afternoon.
Yesterday was a beautiful autumn day. Today it is gray and it has been raining.
Yesterday I went to Sultanhamet to make accommodation arrangements. Upon arriving there I got a little nervous about finding accommodations as there were many more tourists than I had anticipated. Nevertheless, my preferred pension had vacancies for the following three nights.
With relief that that was attended to, I took the rest of the day to pick up on my historical curiosities. I took the local train from the Sirkeçi Station at Emönönü to the Yedikule Station. There stands the Tower of Sultan Ahmet III, essentially the Sea of Marmara end of the Theodosian Wall, the the Constantinople-enclosing wall that Mehmet the Conqueror breached in 1453, bringing an end to the 1000+ year Byzantine Empire. This is the site of the former Golden Gate, one of the main processional entrances to the ancient Constantinople. A frontal view of the gate was locked to me, but later opened to a tour group, and I slithered in upon their exit, then getting out just in time as the attendant returned to lock it off again. How melancholy now is the fore to that gate, now mutely attended by an apple tree. And across the moat now blockades the approach a Muslim cemetery. Ah, the ironies of history!
Within the tower complex I began reading my newest book, the Byzantines by Averil Cameron.
The remainder of the afternoon I walked the half of the wall circuit, to the Topkapi Gate (which is about as far from Topkapi Sarayi as one can get. The remaining mass of the wall is most impressive. Where formerly there was a moat and men fought, bled and died over the centuries, now is largely given over to commercial vegetable gardens.
I finished the eveing stopping at one of the many fish restaurants on the Galata Bridge, then walking up to the Galata Tower on my way back to my two-night digs with the evangelical missionary who has graciously provided me with lodgings these nights.
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